


How Salsa Saved the Day

by TheyCallMetheTailor



Series: Lance Loves Ladies Week [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Culture, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Salsa dancing, lance loves ladies week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 22:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12142086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyCallMetheTailor/pseuds/TheyCallMetheTailor
Summary: "“I can show you a thing or two,” Lance said from right beside her, and it was so unexpected that Pidge nearly jumped out of her seat. Allura’s eyes widened marginally in horror, and she shook her head in a subtle warning to Lance. “I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I was my school’s reigning Salsa Champion four years in a row.” He smiled smugly, and Shiro looked like he was in physical pain. If Lance noticed either of their expressions, he did a good job hiding it. The crowd in the hall had begun murmuring excitedly. From what she could hear, it seemed more like they were excited to see what must be the comically primitive dance forms of the Earthlings rather than any sincere anticipation of a merit-worthy performance. "Oneshot done for Lance Loves Ladies Week ran by McClainNetwork on Tumblr.Under the prompt: Family/Culture





	How Salsa Saved the Day

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to mix a little fluff/crack in before a langsty fic. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Pidge was in hell. And it was crowded. And loud. The dining hall in the Palace of Adris was immense. The ceilings extending far above anything Pidge had seen on earth, and the pristine, uniform furniture around them sat hundreds of the planet’s upper class inhabitants. The people themselves were eerily delicate looking, their slender humanoid frames and sharp, cat-like features lending to their overly abundant superior airs.

 

She didn’t _hate_ people, per se. It was just that she didn’t handle large groups of people very well. Especially not large groups of people who insisted on staring at her and the rest of the team all night. And most especially not when they kept on making patronizing comments and pretended they were completely unaware of how insulting they were being, even as their evil little eyes gleamed maliciously with their true intent.

 

“You mean Earthlings have not even made first contact beyond their own planet?” one of the Adrisian noblewomen had asked with false awe, “How _did_ you stumble your way to piloting such revered vessels?”

 

“My, your manner of speaking is so...peculiar.” Another had said, “It must be such a hardship without elocution training on this Earth planet. Though, to be sure, I find it endearing.” The last part was added as an afterthought and said so flatly it was obvious they meant just the opposite.

 

Still another said to Coran and Allura, “It is heartening to know that Voltron is guided by such ancient and civilized hands as Alteans. One shudders to think of what would become of them without you.”

 

Pidge was starting to grow fuzzy on why exactly they wanted these people on their side. Resource-rich planet or not, Pidge would much rather give them the verbal smack down of the century than put up with this long term. Luckily for the war effort, it wasn’t her job to respond to  these doubled edged conversation starters. That dubious honor fell mostly on Allura and Shiro. They deserved sainthood for how calmly they handled themselves, Pidge thought, their patience never visibly waning under constant barrage of condescension.

 

Pidge wished for the hundredth time that she could’ve come up with a good reason to join Hunk and Keith to the volcanic planet instead. Allura had said that even that necessity was a slight that would be hard to smooth over with the Adrisians, and that she couldn’t afford to leave out another member of the team for this affair. Pidge sighed inwardly.

 

She couldn’t even feign distraction with eating her food. It didn’t look safe. The Adrisians, pinnacle of refinement as they thought they were, hadn’t bothered asking what food would be appropriate for the humans of Voltron. Normally an oversight like this wouldn’t bother her much. She didn’t expect every alien in the universe to fall at their feet and cater to their every whim, of course. Coming from such a seemingly meticulous people though, it felt more like a very deliberate, very pointed mistake. Pidge, for her part, very deliberately and very pointedly left her food untouched.

 

Beside her, Lance was somewhat of a curiosity among his fellow guests. He flirted shamelessly and communicated so expressively, it must’ve been overwhelming for the more subdued Adrisians. They seemed simultaneously amused and bemused by him. Like some exotic animal, Pidge thought uncharitably.

 

He was currently speaking excitedly to the nobles across from him about memes, of all things. He brushed aside several thinly veiled insults framed as questions, and focused solely on the young Adrisian straight across from him, who seemed to be genuinely interested in what he was saying. He was also undeniably handsome. Pidge felt a familiar mingling of irritation and grudging respect for her fellow Paladin. Trust Lance to try and charm a nest of vipers. His choice of topic left something to be desired, but it wasn’t like anything he said would make the Adrisians look down on them any more than they already did.

 

A loud voice cut Lance short mid sentence. “Oh, but you simply _must_ show us an Earthly dance,” said the Queen of Adrisia to Shiro, loud enough for the entire dining hall to hear. PIdge nearly groaned out loud. “You _do_ have dancing on Earth, do you not?”

 

Allura paled, face frozen with a polite smile. “Dancing?” she asked, “I was under the impression it was forbidden to dance on Adris.”

 

The queen waved off Allura’s objection, “Oh, ten thousand years ago, certainly. We are much more progressive now.” Pidge snorted before she could think better of it. Luckily the queen was speaking loud enough to cover the sound. “The art of dance has progressed much in the thousands of years since it was legalized. You can tell much about the character of a person by watching them dance, you know.”

 

“Can you now?” Allura asked, “I would be happy to demonstrate an Altean dance, if you’d like.”

 

Again, the queen brushed Allura’s obvious discomfort aside. “Oh, of course we know _Alteans_ must dance well,” she said, and Pidge looked down at her plate to hide her eye roll. “We would like to see what sort of dance humans are capable of.”

 

“Certainly, your Majesty,” Allura said, voice like soft steps on thin ice, “Perhaps at a later date, we can prepare something for you.”

 

“Oh, but who knows when we will have another opportunity such as this?” The queen pressed, and Pidge felt her anxiety grow with each word, “It is such a small thing to ask in return for our support, surely?”

 

Even to Pidge’s uncultured human ears, the words were as good as a command. She could see Allura struggling to calculate the best way to refuse this request without causing irreparable harm to their negotiations.

 

“I can show you a thing or two,” Lance said from right beside her, and it was so unexpected that Pidge nearly jumped out of her seat. Allura’s eyes widened marginally in horror, and she shook her head in a subtle warning to Lance. “I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I _was_ my school’s reigning Salsa Champion four years in a row.” He smiled smugly, and Shiro looked like he was in physical pain. If Lance noticed either of their expressions, he did a good job hiding it. The crowd in the hall had begun murmuring excitedly. From what she could hear, it seemed more like they were excited to see what must be the comically primitive dance forms of the Earthlings rather than any sincere anticipation of a merit-worthy performance.

 

“Lance,” Pidge hissed through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?” Allura had specifically said to leave conversation with the queen to her and Shiro, which Pidge had happily obliged. She didn’t trust herself to keep things nonviolent.

 

Meanwhile, the queen’s smile looked positively radiant in response to Lance’s proclamation. Pidge shuddered. That smile was predatory, and Lance had just transformed himself into delicious new prey with his words. The queen clearly had no real desire to see human performing arts. She, like the rest of these self-satisfied group of assholes, wanted to have their own not-so-private joke at the bumbling human’s expense, comforted by the irrefutable proof of their cultural superiority over even the famed paladins of Voltron. Pidge had to hand it to them, the Adrisian’s ability to retain this level of arrogance under Galra subjugation was awe inspiring.

 

“See?” the queen said, turning to Allura, “Your human is happy to show his skill in the art of dance.”

 

Allura gave a pleasant smile of her own, and if Pidge didn’t know her better, she’d’ve thought it was sincere. “‘His proper form of address is Lance,” she said patiently. It was the closest she had come to showing any form of irritation toward the Adrisians, “And paladins of the Blue Lion are often very accommodating. Perhaps to an unpractical fault.” It was the closest Allura could come to one last objection.

 

Lance turned his smile on Allura. “See, I knew you liked me,” he said. If looks could kill, Lance would’ve dropped dead just then..

 

“Please, Lance” the queen said. Pidge bristled at the way she said Lance’s name, like it was a marvel to address such a low creature by name. The queen gestured to the wide open space at the center of the hall, “The floor is yours.”

 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lance said as he stood up, all smiles and confidence. “But I need a partner first.”

 

This set off another wave of murmurs throughout the hall, and the queen’s face froze for a brief instant. “Partner?” the handsome young noble who’d sat across from Lance asked, “You dance with...with _partners_?”

 

“Of course. That’s half the fun,” Lance said matter of factly. He held out a hand to the inquisitive noble, turning up the charm, “It’s even better when the partner is gorgeous. Would you care to try it?” _Ugh,_ Pidge thought, _Kill me now._

 

“Oh, no, we wouldn’t dream of impeding on a real life human performance,” the queen said, nipping any Adrisian participation in the bud. Lance visibly deflated, then, paused and slapped his forehead as though a thought had only just occurred to him. Then, to her utter horror, he turned to Pidge.

 

“Pidge?” He asked by way of invitation, like he wasn’t dooming her to death by humiliation, “I _did_ say it was better when the partner was gorgeous.”

 

PIdge could only stare back at him, frozen with abject terror. An unrecognizable wheezing sound was all she could manage. Lance didn’t wait for an answer, taking her gloved hand in his and leading her to the dance floor. She followed woodenly, and it was all she could do to remain upright. “Don’t worry,” Lance whispered in her ear, “I saw one of their street performers on the way in.” Pidge had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and worried a little more.

 

Every eye in the room was riveted on Lance and her, and she felt them like spiders legs on her skin. Pidge was very glad to be wearing her customary Paladin armor and not some fancy dress like Allura right then. It was familiar, flexible, and comfortable. She focused on those feelings and forced herself to breathe. “Lance,” she hissed again, “You heard her. These people have been developing dance for thousands of years. I don’t even know how to dance. What were you thinking?” She was much more coordinated than she’d been back at the Garrison thanks to their extensive combat training, but a fighter did not a dancer make.

 

“Pidge, look at me.” Lance said. He’d brought them to a halt at the center of the dance floor, and Pidge stared up at him, trying to shut out the sight and sound of all the onlookers around them. To her surprise, it was easier than she’d expected. His face managed to express a mixture of amusement and concern at her distress, blue eyes dancing. It was...not entrancing. Obviously. Distracting, maybe. Annoying, definitely.

 

“Well, now you’ve dragged me into this mess,” she said, clinging to irritation, “How are we getting out?”

 

“You trust me with your life, right?”

 

“Of course,” she said without hesitation.

 

“Think you can trust me with a little dance, then?”

 

The absurdity of her fear struck her at those words, and she willed her heart to stop hammering. Only, now that she was so close to Lance, her pulse had quickened for an entirely new and unexpected reason. She forced a wordless nod, swallowing.

 

Lance’s smile grew smug, and she glared back at him. “Alright, just follow my lead and we should be fine.”

 

“That’s...that’s your plan?” She sputtered.

 

“Yeah. Oh, and try not to step on my toes,” he said, moving his right arm under her left to place it gently on her shoulder. Then he took her shaking hand in his own. “Relax. I wasn’t lying about the champion thing. I’m not just the handsomest slash best pilot.”

 

“Can we get this over with?” Pidge asked, and Lance’s smile widened.

 

“If you’re ready.” he said. Then he pulled out his phone, and Pidge felt a jolt of surprise. She’d rigged up a way to charge it at Lance’s request months ago. It was still useless as far as calls and internet went, but he’d said it was so he could look at pictures. Evidently he also had music files on hand, because after a moment, a lively, latin beat played tinnily in the air around them. Their was another tittering murmur from the crowd at the sound. She kept her eyes on Lance’s.

 

“One, two, ready, go,” Lance said, and then they were moving.

 

Clumsy, unsure steps on her part, but they were moving. Her heart rate skyrocketed, and she concentrated on staying calm. She focused on Lance’s face, only that was starting to make things worse. His hips moved fluidly as he sashayed with ease about the floor, leading her with firm, sure steps. His movements were carefree and graceful in the way that only someone with years of practice could make them appear. He really _was_ good at this, she realized. Not that she’d doubted his words, just that she’d taken them for his usual gross exaggeration. If anything he’d understated his skill this time.

 

He kept the footwork simple for her sake, forward for four steps and back for four more. With each repetition she felt her confidence growing. She could do this. She just had to survive to the end of the song.

 

As she kept her focus on Lance, she witnessed a breathtaking transformation. His face grew flush and his eyes lit up as he danced. His shoulders lifted, as though some heavy burden she hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying was eased with every vibrant drumbeat. His energetic self seemed a pale carbon copy of this fiery electrified soul in front of her. It was infectious.

 

Her own face was flush with a tumbling mixture of exertion, exhilaration, and nervous excitement. Lance began to change the pattern on her, and she couldn’t find it in herself to care how much of a mess she made of the abrupt changes. Her shoulder and hand blazed at the points of contact with Lance, and her face eased from its horrified rictus into something like a smile.

 

With only a hint of warning Lance sent her twirling, and the room spun dizzyingly around her for one breathless, extended moment. Her foot caught on the floor and stumbled, heart in her throat as she thought she was about to fall flat on her face, only to land perfectly into Lance’s embrace just as the last notes of the song echoed.

 

She and Lance stayed still, the entire weight of her slanted frame supported in his arms as he bent over her. They both breathed heavily, eyes locked on each other.

 

It was an indeterminable amount of time before she realized the entire hall was dead quiet.

 

Her heart sank. Dear god, they’d stunned everyone into sickened silence.

 

“Lance,” she said out of the side of her mouth, tapping his shoulder, “Let me up.”

 

Lance’s eyes cleared of his post dance haze and he straightened abruptly, letting her go as soon as they were both upright. He flushed an even deeper red than before, still recovering his breath.

 

Now that she was upright, Pidge could see the expressions of their audience, and she wished she couldn’t. All around her Adrisian eyes were shining with tears, faces slack jawed and bodies trembling. She knew she wasn’t the greatest dancer, but for the love of god, it hadn’t been _that_ bad, had it?

 

Lance bowed and Pidge, not knowing what else to do and unwilling to see the faces of the audience a moment longer, followed suit.

 

“That worked...way better than I thought.” Lance said, and Pidge started in confusion, straightening at the same time he did. The whole audience let out a collective gasp at that.

 

“Such synchronicity…” someone whispered reverently.

 

What. The. Hell?

 

“That was…” the queen started, voice hoarse, and Pidge wouldn’t have recognized it as hers if she wasn’t watching her mouth move when she spoke. Every scrap of pretension and and pride was gone, replaced by a gasping, almost worshipful admiration. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

There was a thud as someone fainted nearby.

 

What. The _actual._ Hell?

 

“Paladins of Voltron,” the queen said, voice more confident but no less awestruck. Tears still streamed down her face. “We cannot begin to repay you for the holy gift you have given us through your dance today.”

 

Beside the queen, Allura’s eyebrows were furrowed and mouth hung open in pure, unfiltered bewilderment. Shiro looked just as shocked.

 

“As but a small token of our gratitude and by the power vested in me as the Queen of Adris,” she said, “I pledge to you our undying loyalty.”

 

Lance turned to Pidge, “And you thought I was just a sharpshooter.”

 

\----

“I think the story of how salsa saved the day officially gets top spot of stories to tell my family when I get home,” Lance said. Pidge ignored him and turned to Allura.

 

“So you’re saying they’ve barely progressed beyond arm movements and swaying?” She asked from her seat in the castle living area.

 

“That’s what the ambassador said,” Allura replied, sounding just as incredulous as Pidge did herself.

 

“I told you I saw their street performer,” Lance said, “There was a big crowd around him. It was like he was Michael Jackson up there and all he did was shrug his shoulders. It was amazing.”

 

Pidge shook her head. “Well, let’s just be grateful you didn’t do the moonwalk.”


End file.
